Weaving Stories, Curating Memories

Life By The Window Seat

Recently, I read an amazing book called Window Seat by a new and talented author Yashluv Virwani. I was so besotted by the book that I wrote its review and also interviewed the author here. It is sheer coincidence that precisely when I was basking in the love of Window Seat; Blogadda comes up with a WOW prompt on window seat. The story of my window seat follows.

I was a single child and introvert by nature. Apparently, I may appear talkative but deep down within I love to be left alone in my own space. Too many people often make me nervous and irritated. My concept of having a good time is not going out to pub or shopping mall rather it is to sit in my pyjamas with a book and cup of Darjeeling tea by my window seat. Yes, those who think or claim to know me, this is a contradictory yet honest disclosure.

I am fortunate to have had amazing windows throughout my life. I was born in Sikkim and spent a considerable part of my childhood there. We lived in a wooded cottage and had a big French window. From that window I could gape at the vast expanse of the Kanchenjunga. If I go to Sikkim now, probably, I would have to pay a hefty hotel tariff for that amazing view however then I had the luxury of admiring it 24/7 free of cost. In the morning just before sunrise the snow capped peak of Kanchenjunga used to turn mauve in colour, as the sunlight appeared its colour turned to various hues of orange and then finally the snow used to shine like gold throughout the day. On a moonlit night it used to turn bright silver. Before going to bed each night, I used to bid goodbye to Kanchenjunga that stood like a meditating saint, from my window.

However, Sikkim is a state where it rains intensely almost throughout the year. So many a day Kanchenjunga used to hide behind dense cloud or fog and play hide and seek with me. In those days I used to sit beside my window and look at the rain water falling on the leaves. There was a small stream next to my house. During the rainy season it used to swell up like a river. I often sat near my window and watched that stream angrily roaring during monsoon but it flew gently like a new bride during rest of the year. I especially loved watching snowfall from my window. The snowflakes came down like soft cotton and covered the whole expanse of the small hamlet where I lived. The pine and eucalyptus tree looked as if they were huge ice cones, all covered with snow yet standing tall. The snow always highlighted the conical shapes of those trees.

My tryst with the Himalayan state ended when my Dad was transferred to Kolkata. However the tryst with window seat continued because in my new house there was an equally interesting window. In the new house my window was overlooking a huge lake. It was actually a bheri or artificial lake meant for fish cultivation. A part of that lake was used by an amusement park for boat rides and the remaining part was reserved by the government for fishing. The lake was so huge that the other side was not visible and it almost looked like a sea. I was happy to sit next to my window with a book and watch the vast expanse of water. The water also changed colours throughout the day with the movement of the sun. Early in the morning the lake turned orange and the same hue returned during sunset.

I loved watching the lake during kalboishaki or summer thunderstorm. The small ripples used to turn into violent waves on those days lashing against the banks. The colour also used to turn into a gloomy grey. There used to be a certain Tandava or violence in the movement of the water.

We shifted house again and this time I was not so lucky to view beautiful mountain or lake from my window. The only view I had from the window of the new house was that of balconies and bedrooms of other houses. However, my new window was no less attractive. The new house was on a ground floor and I made a new friend who used to come and stand on my window. We shared our lives with each other standing and talking often till midnight braving mosquito bites and inquisitive eyes of neighbours.

When I shifted to Mumbai I became lucky once again, as my new house in New Mumbai had an amazing view from both sides. From one side I could watch the Vashi Creek and from the rear side of the house I could view the New Mumbai hills. The new house reminded me of my old house with a lake view and also my house in Sikkim. As if both the houses came back to me together. I absolutely loved the house however I had to shift to other part of Mumbai leaving that house.

Sunset view from my Navi Mumbai house

The view from the rear balcony

The house where I live now doesn’t have such amazing view. Nevertheless, I love the window seat in this house. My window seat here is a place where I spend a lot of time. As I mostly work from home, my window seat also doubles up as my workstation. This is the place where I sit with my cup of Darjeeling tea and observe Mumbai rains, this is the place where I sit and read a book or just aimlessly look at the crawling traffic beneath. This is the place where I sit and cry when I am sad or talk to a long distance friend over telephone. This seat is now a part of my life and living. I am thankful for having such amazing window seats all through my life.

You had the view of Kanchenjunga 😍😍 wow that’s like a dream. I can imagine how beautiful it must be. I never had good views at home but my office does give me great views of the city. Loved reading your gorgeously written post and the way you reminisced the old days.

Oooh a window seat is always a cherished one and is the perfect place to watch the rains with a hot cup of my fav brew. I loved your Sikkim one the best and how I wish you could have it back, Then I would invite myself over to enjoy a cuppa 😉
Very well written Balaka